


Fear of the Future

by Moontyger



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Padme doesn't need the Force to see the changes in Anakin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear of the Future

Padme doesn't need the Force to see the changes in Anakin. It's only been a few days since his first nightmare, but he looks as though he's aged years in that time. She watches his cheeks hollow, the shadows in his eyes darken, and wonders why no one else seems to see it. He's a Jedi, but he's never been good at hiding his emotions; his every breath seems to exude increasing fear.

They must know; she can't imagine that the Jedi can't see that something is terribly wrong. She's never understood them, but less so now, when they stand by and watch both Anakin and the Republic fall apart without lifting a finger. Why don't they act?

Padme has never been the kind of woman to idly worry; when she sees something broken, as her husband is breaking before her eyes, she has to do something about it. It's one of the things she's always believed she and Anakin share – that drive to fix things, to make the world better – although their methods are necessarily different. But she can't help him; he won't let her. He doesn't seem to hear her when she speaks and barely looks at her at all, as though he can't see her reality through the weight of the visions. He won't even touch her.

Which is why she's surprised when he bursts into her quarters, slamming the door and closing the distance between them faster than she would have believed possible. Padme barely glimpses his face before he's upon her, hands clenched with bruising force on her shoulders and lips descending in a rough, desperate kiss. She's almost afraid; Anakin has always been gentle with her, even in that first flush of newlywed excitement. What could have prompted this change?

She tries to push him away, but he holds her fast, her words stopped with an eager tongue. Even when he releases her lips, Anakin doesn't give her a chance to even catch her breath, instead pushing her onto the bed as though she's weightless, manipulating her limbs as though she were a doll. His bare skin is heated against her thighs as he lifts her skirts, tearing away and discarding her underwear without a second thought, and thrusts into her from behind.

They freeze like that, both of them absolutely still, and Padme tries to breathe. He is gentler now, her Anakin again, dipping a hand inside her bodice to caress her swollen breasts and only moving slowly, rocking against her. Her own breath quickens as she spreads her legs wider, welcoming him in as the pain of his sudden entrance begins to turn to pleasure. He kisses the back of her neck as the rhythm of his thrusts increases, slides a hand around to caress her clit with the tip of a gloved, artificial finger.

She pants against him, worries momentarily forgotten in the pleasure of his touch, a touch she hasn't felt in days. For the first time since this began, he seems to really know she is there, and it is relief as much as physical pleasure that pushes her over the edge, her orgasm rippling through the both of them.

He calls her name when he comes and the hope in his voice awakens its echo in her.

But all too soon, he pulls away, refastening his pants in a silence that swiftly becomes uncomfortable, killing her newborn hope before it ever has the chance to fly. She turns over and tries to see his face, ignoring the stain on the expensive fabric of her gown, but Anakin still won't look at her. As he turns to leave, his shadow seems to stretch over the floor ominously, longer and darker than before in the reddish light of sunset.

“Anakin!” Padme calls out for him in sudden desperation, somehow certain that she can't let him leave. He pauses, turns back, and she stifles a gasp at the sight of him: his face set like stone and eyes that seem to burn as he looks at her.

“That's not my name anymore.” Simple words, but the way he says them promises blood and darkness, though she doesn't know for whom, not yet. This is Anakin the warrior, the man who fought in the Clone War to such effect, but worse, more ruthless, more scarred. There are no wounds she can see, but Padme can tell he's bleeding just the same.

“Anakin,” she says again, quietly. She knows no other name to call him, doesn't know what he wants to hear, what will change the deadly determination she sees in his expression. Whatever precipice he'd been walking, he's finally fallen off, and she doesn't know how to save him.

This time, he doesn't answer, just turns away and walks out the door, shutting it behind him with a quiet click that seems to echo in the emptiness left behind. Padme crosses her arms over her swollen belly, trying to soothe the frantic movements of the baby inside. All isn't lost, she tells herself. There's still hope; no matter what he said or what he's done, he's still her Anakin, the man she loves. But for the first time, she is afraid of the future.


End file.
